Playing Love's Odds (A Classic Sexy Romantic Suspense) Read Free

considered dumping the case and pursuing the mark. A definite slip of control. She'd gotten to him. Reached a level he'd not let anyone near the last three years. And he couldn't say exactly why.
    She'd been there when he closed his eyes at night, when he opened them in the morning. And during the dark hours between, her image had kept the demons at bay.
    Until he'd come to realize she might not be the guardian angel he'd been using her for.
    When handed the portfolio detailing Hannah's meeting with the president of Vandale Chemical, Neil Harrington's reaction bordered on schizoid. The way Logan saw things, no one deserved to be on the receiving end of that type of unbalanced rage. But obviously Harrington felt Hannah Evans had it coming.
    Logan found it hard to argue after the evidence he'd dug up. Even if it turned out to be circumstantial, it was damned convincing.
    Seemed Hannah's finances had been strapped for more than a few years, since, in fact, her father had died, leaving her and her mother close to destitute. The medical bills approached astronomical. And some people would do just about anything for money.
    He ought to know. He'd sold his soul so many times the devil owned it ten times over.
    Still, the funny thing was that taking the pictures hadn't been enough. He'd wanted to follow her into the restaurant where she'd met Vandale. To be a fly on the wall and hear their conversation. To see what was on the papers she'd handed him. To find out if she was as guilty as the evidence painted her.
    He'd wanted to breathe her scent. He'd wanted to hear her voice. He'd wanted to place his palm in the small of her back and draw her close. And more than anything, he'd wanted to find a bit of the innocence he'd given up on finding.
    None of the reasons had anything to do with the case and everything to do with the woman.
    Logan flipped his blinker up, wedged the Mustang into an opening half its size in the far lane, and headed for his exit. Black and white photos had distinct disadvantages. Like not divulging the color of a person's eyes. He wanted to know about Hannah's eyes. To figure out why they hypnotized him, beckoned him, made him think of salvation.
    The traffic thinned the further he drove from the center of town. After a quick stop at the hole in the wall that served as his office, he would hit the road for the Gulf. He wanted to suck in gallons of sea air, feel the wind whip his hair, and let the salt spray sting Hannah Evans right out of his mind.
    He took the corner on two wheels and, leaving long strips of black rubber behind, fishtailed into his usual parking spot. Wrists draped over his steering wheel, he grudgingly eyed the sporty yellow Miata parked across the lot.
    So much for luck or making it to the beach any time soon. He vaulted out of the car and sent his office door open on a crash. The frosted window bearing eight out of the ten letters of his name rattled in the frame.
    "Who's th ... What's go ... Mr. Burke!" his secretary gasped. She pressed a shocked hand against her bosom then patted her helmet of blue-gray hair into place.
    "Now, Maggie, I'm just keeping you on your toes. I wouldn't want you to fall asleep on the job." He narrowed his eyes and arched one brow, trying to get a rise out of the unflappable grandmother. "I might just have to fire you."
    "I would never do such a thing," she answered, indignant.
    "Well, I wouldn't blame you for taking a snooze. There's hardly enough work around here for me, much less you, too." He parked his hip on the corner of her battered metal desk and studied the early garage sale decor of the room as if seeing it for the first time.
    Margaret tugged an envelope out from beneath him and swatted him on the arm. "Maybe if you'd learn to conduct yourself professionally instead of acting like the hooligan you are you'd have more people interested in hiring you.
    "In fact," she said, her voice a whisper. "Now would be a good time to start minding your manners. You've